It's Just a Little Trip To the Other Side
by PennyHill
Summary: Unbeknownst to Buckaroo Banzai and the Hong Kong Cavaliers a new evil is lurking in the shadows of the night. An epic adventure unfolds as they try to stop it before it comes to light. Rated M for mature situations, violence, and language.
1. Chapter 1, I Should've Hailed a Cab

**It's Just a Little Trip To the Other Side**

Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to the characters stated in the Buckaroo Banzai series; I'm just borrowing for my own recreational purposes.

Chapter 1, I Should've Hailed a Cab

Perfect Tommy stood on the curb and waved his arm to hail a cab. As he did so, the young woman fumbled around in her clutch purse, finally pulling out her ringing cell phone. "_What was her name again_," he asked himself. He shrugged to himself after realizing that it really didn't matter at the end of the day. He wasn't going to be seeing her again. He took a parting glance at her and resumed to look down the noisy and puddle laden street. She was talking so loud that it wasn't hard to catch snippets of her conversation.

"Yea, I'm going home with him," she said which was immediately followed up with a silly school girl giggle. For a moment, Perfect Tommy left his imagination run with what her girlfriend might have told her next. He smiled smugly to himself. If it had been any other night he might have seriously considered it. He looked back over at her and left his eyes wander over her body. She was young and hot and of course she thought the same of him. He felt his manhood move just a little in anticipation but he took a deep breath and it quickly relaxed. The smell of the club's former patrons' indulgences and other foul street odors successfully curbed his appetite. Tonight's club outing was just a night to stand on the sidelines of a world he really wasn't a part of anymore and by doing that he accomplished his purpose. One was to drink, and the second was to be alone, in either order.

"Oh!"

He quickly looked over and found her bent over adjusting the strap on her red high heel. Tommy watched her regain her somewhat shaky balance and satisfied that she wasn't going anywhere, returned to his effort of hailing a cab.

"If I don't call by 8am, call me…" She turned away from him so he couldn't hear the rest of the conversation.

"At least she's got a few sober brain cells left," Tommy muttered to himself. To his relief a cab slowed down and pulled up to him. He rapped on the passenger side window and the cab driver rolled it down. Tommy leaned down and looked in. The air was thick with cigarette smoke and the guy looked liked he had seen better days, but all things considered, the guy looked relatively harmless so he wasn't going to be choosy. "Hang on a minute."

The young woman was neither aware of the cab, or of Tommy now holding the door open for her. He yelled,"Hey!"

She looked up at him and slurred loudly in to her phone, "Gotta go!" She half-walked, half-stumbled as quickly as her high heels would let her, over to the waiting cab.

"Get in," he said a little more gruffly than he intended. He paused and then continued a bit more sympathetically, "I'll make sure that the cab driver takes you back home."

The young woman stared at him, not immediately comprehending his words. Then the light clicked on. "You're not coming home with me?" she asked a little quietly, almost child-like. She reached up and traced her fingers down his arm. She was a grown-up once more. "Are you sure? I'd make it worth your while," she purred.

"Not tonight sweetheart," Tommy replied. "You should consider yourself lucky that you found a perfect gentleman." He motioned again for her to get in. "Any other guy might have taken advantage… of your state."

The young woman pressed her lips together harder and harder together as she realized that she wasn't going to have an eventful ending to the evening and another notch in her lipstick case. With her thoughts and actions clouded by the alcohol, the young woman grew belligerent. "You bastard," she hissed.

Tommy just smiled. "And this is why I go for a woman with a little more class too."

Infuriated, the young woman raised her hand as though she was going to slap him, but then thought better of it. She instead crawled ungracefully in to the cab and Tommy was finally able to close the door.

Tommy leaned in thru the passenger side window once more. As he handed the driver a fifty he told him, "Take her wherever she wants to go." He glimpsed back at the young woman and found her with her arms crossed over her. Maybe it was from frustration but then again, she did look visibly paler. He looked back at the cab driver and added, "Keep the change. You may need it to compensate for her later." The cab driver nodded and Tommy backed up back on to the sidewalk. He watched the cab pull away and after it merged into traffic, started to walk away from the club.

He could have hailed another cab in order to return to the hotel. After all, it was a good ten blocks. But he decided to walk instead. What could happen at 2am? _Okay, lots of things_, he admitted to himself. He unconsciously felt for his concealed Bursa Thunder. Satisfied that it was there he tucked his hands back in to his pockets and resumed his thoughts inward again.

He had scarcely walked three blocks when his thoughts were interrupted.

"Aaaaayyyyeeee! Help me!... Someone… please help me!" It was a woman's voice.

Tommy stopped and then took a few hesitant steps towards a darkened alley to his left.

The woman's voice was definitely closer and louder as she screamed again, "Help me! Please help me!"

Tommy leaned up against the side of a damp brick building. He rubbed his temple and as he did so gently shook his head. He was in no mood to be a hero tonight. He looked down the street and then back up behind him. There was no one. No cars, no club patrons, not even a bum.

"Help me!" The woman's voice was weaker and quieter.

"God damn it," he muttered to himself as he started quickly, but stealthy, move along the side of the wall, down the alley. As he neared a dumpster, he reached around and pulled out his gun.

There were a few windows but they were dark. The only illumination came from a small light overhead of a steel door. In the dim light he saw the woman pushed up against the opposite side of the alley. One of the two silhouetted figures held something to her throat, while the second figure had his back to him. The second figure acted like he was holding something, maybe a nightstick, since he was slowly tapping the end of it into his left hand.

Tommy deftly crept around the dumpster, being careful to stay near the side of the building until he reached the next dumpster.

The woman started to sob, "Please… please don't hurt me." The first figure took his free hand and grabbed her breast, roughly massaging it.

Tommy furled his brow and glared at the figures. He rose from his crouched position, trained his gun on the thug holding the woman, and took a few silent steps towards them.

"Get away from her!"

As expected the two silhouetted figures spun around to see who was going to interrupt their twisted version of a fun evening.

Seeing Tommy with his outstretched gun sighted on them, the two thugs stood still. The only sound was the woman's continuing sobbing.

Tommy said authoritatively,"Drop your weapons, slowly move away from the woman, and no one gets hurt."

The first figure turned his head slightly toward the other and gave an almost imperceptible nod. He dropped his knife and the blade gave a loud ting as it hit and then rattled against the wet pavement. The figure then slowly raised his arms towards the sky. The second thug did nothing.

"Why don't you be a good little boy like your friend there and drop your weapon? Trust me, you don't want to make me tell you a third time," threatened Tommy. He took a quick glimpse of the sobbing woman. "Get the hell out of here," he commanded her.

Coming out of the shadows from above, Tommy never heard the third thug heading for him.

THUD!

The blow caused by the Tetsubo stick to Tommy's left side was hard and sharp. Waves of pain shot up his chest and across his abdomen. He groaned from the pain but he was able to maintain his composure long enough to spin around and face his attacker head on. Before he could fire off a shot the Tetsubo stick came around again and struck the back of his outstretched left hand which was holding his gun. Another wave of sharp pain shot up his arm. His body ignored his will and his fingers released their grip. His gun went skidding along the wet pavement.

No longer could he hear the woman sobbing. No longer could he hear the sounds of the city. He was focused on the three shadowy figures surrounding him. _Fuck!_ His mind screamed. _Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!_ It was a set up and he fell for it…hook, line, and sinker.

He hated stick fighting and he especially hated Tetsubo sticks. They were ancient war clubs carried by the strongest samurai warriors. Made of the hardest wood, embedded with a myriad of steel rivets and typically about four feet long they packed a wallop. Not being able to draw a full breath without feeling a sharp pain from his side was the hard evidence of their power.

The Tetsubo stick came around for a third blow but he was ready this time. He didn't have time to avoid the strike but he could try to minimize the impact. As the riveted end of the stick bore down upon him, he turned his body so that he would take the blow somewhere on his back. With a sickening thud it the riveted end came down on the back of his left shoulder. It sounded terrible and hurt badly but it still wasn't as severe as the first two blows.

While powerful, a Tetsubo was not a quick handling weapon due to its weight. The third thug couldn't bring his Tetsubo back up and around over Tommy quick enough, so his front was left wide open. Tommy took full advantage and in one large step closed the gap between himself and his attacker. He reared his right arm back and landed a good old-fashioned punch to the attacker's jaw. It landed with a satisfying thud and caused the thug to stumble backwards slightly. As quick as he could Tommy followed up his punch with two quick and hard blows to the abdomen. The thug bent over and stumbled closer back towards the building's wall.

Tommy clutched at his side as he tried to draw a deep breath. The last two strikes, while taking out the third thug, wouldn't finish him off and he still had two other attackers to worry about. The first and second attackers weren't going to give him any more time to think. No sooner had their comrade landed against the wall they were upon him.

Tommy spun around and as he did so the first thug lunged at him. Tommy deftly turned and merely guided his attacker's weight towards the ground. The second figure took his baton and whacked the Tommy's lower back near his kidneys. The move caused Tommy to drop to one knee and growl out in pain again. It was becoming agonizingly obvious that the thugs knew just enough where to hit a person to bring them down. Tommy willed his body to move once more and as he rose he used his left arm to elbow the second thug. It didn't matter where the blow landed as long as it landed somewhere. Fortunately Lady Luck smiled just a little bit and he caught the thug in the gut. Bracing himself for the pain he forced himself to take a quick deep breath and continued forward; he gave the second thug a left jab, followed by a quick right jab and finally a satisfying upper cut. "Take that you son of a bitch," he muttered under his breath but he didn't have time to relish his victory.

Spinning around he put his arms up in a defensive stance, ready for the remaining attackers. The first one who lunged at him came back for more while the other one had already picked up the baton from the goon laid out at his feet.

His breathing became harder and harder and his arms hurt more and more as he continued blocked their blows. Like a tired boxer he started to drop his arms and that was the unfortunate opening that the attackers needed. The one with the baton was the first one to take advantage. One swift blow to the other side of his ribs caused him to drop to his knee once more. One last blow by the other thug finished him off.

* * *

"Did you find his wallet?"

"Yes."

A very groggy Tommy half-heartedly flailed an arm in the air but one of the thugs quickly batted it away.

"Get that gel applied so we can get out of here."

_Huh? Wasn't that the woman's voice?_

* * *

Time passed. For how long, Tommy wasn't sure. He slowly pushed himself up to a sitting position. He sat still for a few minutes, trying to comprehend what the hell happened and how a perfect evening went painfully awry. He didn't take a lot of blows, but they were well executed in the most vulnerable spots. His body protested as he willed it to get up and rise to his feet. He stumbled as he started to slowly walk around, looking for his gun. He eventually found it lying in a puddle. He slowly crouched down and unsure of the puddle's contents used two fingers to grab it by the hilt. "Great," he said to himself. The Bursa Thunder was one of his favorites and it would some time to clean it. As he rose back up he wiggled it around trying to get most of the water off of it before putting it back in his holster.

Tommy slowly flexed the fingers on his left hand. _With a little ice and a little luck it shouldn't bruise too bad. It's still going to be a bitch to try to play though._ Then he paused. _Oh shit, where's my wallet? _He felt around his pants and found it. He slowly pulled it out and flipped it open. _That's a little weird. They took the money but left the cards._ He fumbled around some more but finally got it put away as he started to walk down the alley. _I should've hailed that cab._


	2. Chapter 2, Consequences & Awakenings

**It's Just a Little Trip To the Other Side**

**Chapter 2, Consequences and Awakenings**

"It looks like you took some bad hits," said Buckaroo Banzai as he watched Sidney Zwibel give Perfect Tommy the once over. Tommy sat on the hotel room's desk that was being used a makeshift medical examination table while he was sitting on the edge of one of two double beds, directly facing them. The desk, made of cheap laminate creaked when Tommy first sat on it. For a few fleeting moments it lightened the somber mood as they all joked around whether it would hold under Tommy's weight. Sidney was Buckaroo's old friend going back to the days that they attended Columbia Physicians & Surgeons together. Buckaroo was the only one who would still refer to him on occasion by his true name of Sidney or his own nickname of Sid; the other Cavaliers affectionately referred to him with his new moniker of New Jersey.

Earlier a rookie police officer sat on one side of the desk as Tommy and Buckaroo sat on the other. With quiet indifference, the rookie officer dutifully asked each question listed on the incident report form. Through the entire experience, the officer didn't seem fazed at all that the famous Buckaroo Banzai and Perfect Tommy sat before him. As the officer was writing, Buckaroo's eyes strayed to the previous day's newspaper. The main headline screamed "Crime Wave Continues" while the opening statement was a bolded "For the fourth straight year…" Buckaroo finished skimming the article and returned his attention back to the rookie. He examined him more carefully and it was now plainly obvious that he was just going through the motions of recording Tommy's run-in. Buckaroo found it disconcerting. The rookie was just that, a rookie. He was too young to start experiencing that sensation of overwhelming hopelessness that some men feel when they've been fighting for a cause for too long with no results. When Buckaroo asked the victim's standard question of how long it would take before the investigation would start, he and Tommy received the standard response that even though there were a large number of case loads, a detective would be assigned as soon as possible. As the rookie officer left the room neither one had to comment on his answer. Both knew that the report would be buried in an inbox, most likely never seeing the light of day ever again.

New Jersey looked frustrated. Even though all of the lights were turned on in the room, it was still not as bright as he would have preferred. Meanwhile Reno Nevada sat on the edge of the other double bed, trying not to knock off the contents of the desk which were scattered all over it. He had moved one of the small end tables and upon it; he was slowly and methodically taking apart Tommy's Bursa Thunder. It was the least that he could do to help. On any other day Tommy would have yelled at him for even looking at it crossways. Instead the biggest reaction Reno got out of him was a quiet "Just be careful with it."

"Ow." Tommy first recoiled and then grimaced in pain.

New Jersey paused before he resumed pressing as gently as he could around Tommy's lower back. "You should consider yourself lucky that you're not urinating blood… at least not yet. We'll need to keep an eye on that. You also have a fair amount of tenderness around your right kidney, much more so than on your left side." His tone was professional, borne out of years of habit and new found confidence.

Tommy sighed. Once again his plans were going awry. When he got back to the hotel all he wanted to do was to down whatever painkillers he could find and sleep for a few hours. He knew he would have to fess up eventually about the fight but didn't expect to have to do it as soon as he entered the room. It was just his luck that Reno was having a sleepless night. When he first entered the room, Reno didn't look up from his draft on the impact of neurological and mechanical network fusion on the subconscious mind. "You're home early," was the half-mumbled greeting he received. It was after Reno looked up from his scribbling that all hell broke loose.

He reached up to scratch the back of his neck. "Jersey, the back of my neck won't stop itching."

"Hmmm…" New Jersey muttered as he continued to focus his attention on Tommy's left hand. "Did you change fabric softener lately?"

Reno snickered as Tommy gave New Jersey a priceless look of confusion. "What?"

"Anytime I change fabric softener to anything else besides Downy my skin becomes irritated."

Reno could not help himself and ignoring the seriousness of the situation, snickered. "Tommy uses Snuggles."

Tommy's glare in response made Reno chuckle even more. For a brief moment, things were back to normal. "He's got a thing for soft cuddly teddy bears," he added.

Without being asked, Buckaroo rose and handed New Jersey a flashlight. He then looked over to Reno and strongly suggested, "Reno, why don't you go out and get some ice. The machine's down the hall if you haven't noticed it already. We both know that Tommy's going to need some."

A look of disappoint slowly crossed over Reno's face as he understood the not so subtle sign from Buckaroo that he was to stop chiding Tommy. Then the look of disappoint disappeared. Something, call it a hunch, told him that when New Jersey was finished with Tommy, Buckaroo wanted to be alone with him. Reno reached back over the double bed, grabbed the ice bucket, and then quietly pulled the door shut as he left the room.

Buckaroo and New Jersey closely examined Tommy's neck. Some very small pink bumps were scattered about the nape of his neck. Other than that, nothing else appeared to be abnormal.

"It's not too irritated," answered Buckaroo. "It could be caused by any number of things, all probably minor though."

New Jersey nodded in agreement. "I'm pretty sure I have some cortisone cream I can give you to try." He handed the flashlight back to Buckaroo and resumed examining Tommy's hand. "I'll look in my bag after I'm done."

The minutes passed in almost near silence. Buckaroo walked over to the window. As he watched the city slowly wake up, he would hear Tommy occasionally stifle a moan or New Jersey go "hmmm". He thought back to the conversation earlier that morning with the rookie police officer and then Tommy's reflective thoughts.

"_I can't believe he just sat there like that! Aren't you going to call his sergeant?"_

To which he did. The sergeant sounded very tired and very overworked over the phone. And while he was polite he made it clearly evident that it did not matter who was on the other line. All cases were important, but there was only so much manpower to go around.

"I don't believe that anything is broken, just bruised," New Jersey finally announced. It was more of a confirmation to Buckaroo than to Tommy.

Buckaroo stood still for a moment, watching a few cars go down the street below the hotel room. Houston was the fourth largest city in the United States. It had the same issues of any large city, such as homelessness, poverty, and crime. Before, it was multiplied two or three fold just due to its sheer size when compared to any other city. When the refugees from New Orleans came in, the problems multiplied ten fold. It had been four years but the repercussions were still being felt. But… And it was a big "But". As logical as that explanation seemed to be for the rise in random acts of violence, the feeling that it wasn't the _right_ explanation gnawed at him. Pushing those thoughts aside, he decided that finding the thugs who had attacked Tommy would be difficult at best. The only calling card they left was the Tetsubo stick. With the wide-spread use of the Internet, they were readily available and popular with both collectors and would-be weekend warriors. He looked over at New Jersey, who was patiently waiting for some sort of acknowledgement from him. And then he looked at Tommy, who was sitting still, head bent down, watching, as he slowly flexed his left hand.

"That's good Sid, I'll take it from here," Buckaroo replied. "Why don't you go back to bed and try to get a little rest? I'll finish taking care of Tommy."

New Jersey nodded and went to look in his bag for the cortisone cream. Rawhide had found the old black doctor's bag in a barn, shined it up with some saddle soap, and gave it to him as sort of a "Welcome Aboard" gift. At first he found it quaint, and preferred his wampum belt. But the bag gradually grew on him and he found it especially handy when he wasn't fully attired in his western gear. He also now understood why his grandfather was so fondly attached to his. "Aha!" he said more to himself than to anyone else. He handed the tube to Tommy. "This is prescription strength so you shouldn't need to use it often. If you feel like you need to use it more than twice a day, or if the rash breaks out further, let me know… Okay? Oh… I almost forgot. Take two of these now for your discomfort."

With his good hand, Tommy took the tube and the two pain pills from New Jersey's outstretched hand. He smiled meekly and quietly replied, "Thanks Jersey."

New Jersey nodded once more in understanding and then asked Buckaroo, "We're still checking out by noon?"

"Yeah," answered Buckaroo. "We have one more gig to do before heading back to the Institute but I wanted to make sure that everyone, at least had the opportunity, to get some sleep first."

_At least had the opportunity_… Tommy coiled inwardly in disgust. It didn't take an idiot to figure out that those words were directed at him.

New Jersey snapped his doctor's bag shut and without another word left the room. He too sensed that Buckaroo wanted to speak to Tommy in private.

Tommy slowly got down off of the desk and walked over to the window, clutching his side as he did so. "Are you going to proceed to tell me how much of an ignoramus I am?" The sun was now just starting to rise thru the city skyline. He too shared Buckaroo's gut feeling of how difficult it would be to find those thugs. He'd start in Houston's equivalent of Chinatown as soon as he took a quick nap and the pain pills kicked in. Even if he missed the bus he could find a ride.

"No. I figured that you were beat up enough," replied Buckaroo as he crossed his arms and leaned a little against the window.

Tommy lightly snorted at Buckaroo's implied double meaning.

"I've decided that we're not going to stay to actively track your attackers and their accomplice down. I'll have Reno pass the descriptions along to some of the local Blue Blazes and they can continue to monitor the police reports in our absence. If they pick up on any leads we'll take it from there."

Tommy turned away from the brightening skyline and looked at Buckaroo, his face hardening a little. "It finally happened didn't it?" He didn't expect Buckaroo to gloat about his situation, but he was not expecting him to gently let it go either.

Buckaroo's eyes narrowed. Perfect Tommy's late night exploits were legendary and this past evening's outing had been no exception. Once the gig was done and before the equipment had been taken outside to be loaded back on to the bus, Tommy was gone, being last seen arm-in-arm with some groupie who had taken him to a local nightclub. But this time was different. Tommy was out and about, cut off from the rest of the Cavaliers after having _deliberately_ turning off his GPS/BIO tracker. He was totally alone. Had Tommy been obligated to help the woman? Yes. Had he truly been in any shape to do so? No. This time it was just bumps and bruises. What about next time?

"Three attackers, armed, or unarmed, wouldn't have taken you down any other time," Buckaroo coolly answered.

"So I had a few drinks." Tommy thought back to the evening. Okay, it had been a few more than that and maybe some other stuff too. Did it make him a little sluggish? More than likely.

"And then some. You were already behaving irresponsibly and then you added to it by turning off your tracker."

"So what do you want me to do? Have Reno and Jersey babysit and give me a warm bottle of milk before bedtime?" Tommy sarcastically retorted.

Buckaroo sighed. Disagreements over his late night outings had been a source of contention in the past. This morning, was now turning out to be no different.

Seeing Buckaroo's "Here we go again" look made Tommy shook his head, "Look… I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that." There really was no reason to be sarcastic to Buckaroo. He reached to scratch the back of his neck again.

"I've always allowed the Cavaliers to do what they wanted on their own time and they've accepted your behavior as much as you've accepted theirs'. But when you're actions, reputation or not, start to impact their lives, something's gotta be said."

Tommy looked back out the window._ He's right you know_, his inner voice nagged at him. _I know, he's put up with me more than I deserve, now shut up. _"You're right that I should've never turned off my tracker."

"When we get back to the Institute I want you to work with Billy and do some data mining on the continuing elevated crime rate of Houston. I don't think that it's just because of the Katrina refugees," Buckaroo said.

Tommy stayed silent for a moment, taken a little aback by the quick change in subject. With a raised eyebrow he asked, "Is that why you're upset more than usual about my little outings?"

"Partly," Buckaroo replied. "More importantly this time it's because you got hurt because of them. You are of a brilliant mind, a great fighter, but most of all a loyal friend. I don't want to lose you because of some stupid actions." He took a step towards Tommy and rested his hand lightly on his shoulder to emphasize his point, "No one deserves a death like that."

"Now I do feel like an idiot," replied Tommy. It wasn't a great line and on the cheesy scale it definitely ranked above a 7.5. But given the shape that he was in, it was the best that he could come up with.

_Yes Tommy, I do put up with you more than the rest. _A smile started to form at the corners of Buckaroo's mouth, "A perfect one?"

Tommy rolled his eyes, "Of course. Would you expect anything less?"

* * *

The woman and the three shadowy thugs who had attacked Perfect Tommy walked down the long rough-hewn corridor leading to the Great Room. What little illumination there was came from the string of electric lights hung from the ceiling at every ten feet or so. Once in awhile one would flicker but then regain the strength to come back on. The only sound was from the woman's heels as they clicked softly against the stone floor. She was still dressed in the outfit she had worn during the attack. She was wearing a crisply ironed, white long French cuffed shirt, and a black skirt that was knee length. If she had been anywhere else, one would have thought she was ready to enter an executive boardroom.

Soon the quartet reached two large heavy wooden doors flanked by two armed guards. As with most of her Overlord's men, they were mercenaries. These two in particular had been former soldiers of the Foreign Legion. Dishonorably discharged, they now offered their services to the highest bidder. Recognizing her upon sight, they quietly stepped aside and let her approach the doors.

With a single wave from her right hand, the surface of the wooden doors shimmered and a small rectangular portal opened right below shoulder height. It was just large enough for her to insert her hand in to. After doing so, six small needles jabbed the palm of her hand. She cursed silently as she flinched from the pin pricks of pain. After all these times, she had not yet gotten used to the security device. _Barbaric_ _piece of shit_, she thought to herself. Certainly there were easier ways to determine one's identity, both in name and in species.

With a quiet ding, a soft green light from inside of the portal began to glow. A second later the clicking of the internal gears of the doors was audible and the doors began to swing open towards them.

No one was in the Grand Room, not that that was unusual anymore. The room was nearly fully automated. As the doors swung shut behind them, hidden generators started to hum and the banks of electrical equipment filling the room came to life.

The woman stopped and stood still in the middle of the room. The three thugs stopped a good five or six feet behind her. There was no need for them to be near the black obelisk that was now slowly rising out of the center of the floor.

The obelisk slowly began to emit a pulsating energy that was felt, but not seen. The woman raised her hand to her eyes to shield them, knowing what to expect next. The obelisk emitted a pulse of electric white light and then as soon as it appeared it was gone. In its place was a circular disk of shimmering silver liquid hovering in the air.

The surface of shimmering silver liquid stabilized and soon a very blurred image appeared. It looked like to be one of a man with long white hair and an equally long white beard. He may have been wearing dark green robes but again because of the poor quality of the transmission it was difficult to tell.

"Has it been accomplished?" the white haired man asked. Even though the background static was loud and man's voice was very garbled, the woman was still able to make out his question.

"Yes, my liege," the woman responded. She paused to ensure that her response was transmitted before continuing. "The nanobots were applied to the one referred to as Perfect Tommy… The absorption rate appears to be normal for his species, gender, approximate age, and build. We are expecting full implementation within the next twelve hours."

The white haired man shifted slightly. "Excellent, Lucretia."

"You will also be pleased to hear that the X9's performed better than anticipated against the one named Perfect Tommy. Their AI data will be downloaded in to the X10's shortly." Lucretia smiled smugly to herself. She knew that her liege would be pleased at the progress. She knew all along that she could do a better job than her so-called superior officer, the second-in-command of this major operation. She smiled as she recalled looking at his wide-eyed expression of shock as he gripped his throat; trying to hold back the foul bile and blood rising from his stomach.

Through the haze Lucretia saw the nodding of approval from the white haired man. "Report to me again in 16 Earth hours to confirm that the nanobots have begun the tracing and data logging sequences."

"As you command," replied Lucretia.

No sooner had she said the words than the man's image began to fade, the surface of the gray liquid shimmered once more, and then it was gone.

Lucretia turned around to look at the X9's standing behind her at attention. _Yes, it's going to be a glorious day indeed_.


	3. Chapter 3, God Belonging

**It's Just a Little Trip To the Other Side**

Chapter 3, God Belonging

"Feeling better?" Reno asked Tommy as he pulled up a nearby chair, flipped it around, and sat down across from him. Reno was wandering the hallways and found his friend in the Institute's eastern study. Besides the obvious stacks of bookcases, it had been plainly furnished with just the basic necessities such as a few heavy oak desks complete with old-fashioned brass desk lamps and forest green shades, and heavy, but comfortable wooden chairs to match. While in marked contrast to the modern architecture of the building, it still felt cohesive. When the room was being renovated to include the modern conveniences of the wireless age, Buckaroo had allowed three luxury items to be incorporated. There was the ultra high efficiency fireplace personally designed by Pecos to be run using fuel derived from green algae (where the source is from the several large ponds conveniently located on the Institutes' grounds) and two old fashioned high-back, dark red, leather chairs. The chairs had been Rawhide's idea and it was a brilliant one at that. The chairs were nearly always occupied by either an intern and/or fellow Cavalier and it was there that some of the most amazing intellectual conversations would occur.

Tommy removed his glasses and looked up from his notebook and laptop. He was in the middle of analyzing the crime data that Billy had downloaded from Houston's police department and associated Texas state agencies. Billy Travers was their hacker extraordinaire and all-around computer technology and robotics genius. Facing trial for a number of hacking offenses into various New Jersey local and state agencies, it had been Buckaroo who intervened on his behalf and personally negotiated the plea-bargaining agreement with the attorney general. In return for probation, he was to use his talents for the Institute's residents and overall robotics advancement, paying particularly attention to the growing field of elder care. Granted, Buckaroo had a little help from the attorney general's constituents who had helped to fund his election campaign. They, who sat on the boards of various technology firms, had a stake in making sure that America kept ahead of that curve; especially after Honda unveiled the latest generation of their ASIMO robot. For the private industry, it was easy to keep out of trouble. For the Cavaliers, when they needed _certain_ data, he walked a fine line, a very, very fine line.

Tommy shrugged his shoulders. "Still a bitch to move around," was his short answer. Reno actually didn't need a verbal authentication from him. He was clean shaven and dressed down, but fashionably dressed down, in one of the latest styles from New York. _Wasn't he always?_ , thought Reno to himself. So that accounted for something.

Reno turned his attention to the sleek silver colored laptop trimmed in a brilliant metallic red and emblazed with a large copy of the Institute's logo in the same hue. It was hard not to notice it. He pointed and asked incredulously, "That's the new one that Billy built for you?"

Tommy grinned. "He said that it wouldn't be right unless I had something with a little flash."

"He hit the nail on the head there," Reno replied. "You coming up with anything?"

"Just started," he answered with a shrug.

Reno got up to leave and as he did so asked, "You're still going downtown with us tonight to see Pinky's band right?"

Tommy rolled his eyes. "Yeah… wouldn't want to miss his one-time only reunion extravaganza," he muttered. Then he stated louder, "The boss wants to see some results this afternoon but then I'll hook up with you guys."

Reno heard his off-hand remark. "Come on man, you know it's important to him." The chair squeaked loudly against the hardwood floor as he pushed it in. Then he gave his parting shot, "Such dedication on a Saturday… You sure you're feeling well?"

_Consider it probation_, thought Tommy.

* * *

"Greetings Hanoi-guay. Sain bainuu?" Lucretia asked in the traditional Mongolian tongue.

Hanoi Xan studied her for a moment. With her olive skin and straight black hair she looked like any of the other concubines he kept at his compound. But it was the eyes. Not only were they green, which was an unusual color for anyone, but there was something else that seemed to be emulating from her. A sneer formed on his lips as he realized what it was. _The spirit of a serpent…how appropriate._

"Sain," he replied. Criminal or not, Mongolian etiquette required that he respond with the equivalent of "Fine."

Lucretia let her eyes wander around the monitor and took in the background scenery that was behind Xan. He had made no attempt to hide the fact that he was, quite literally, hiding in a cave. "Good. I trust that you find our satellite phone technology satisfactory?"

"Of course," was his guarded response. "It is an improvement over our existing system… As you can see from behind me, I am calling from deep inside my… _office_."

Lucretia smiled. She chose her words carefully. "Good. My Liege will be pleased to know that his gift to you has performed well."

Xan slowly rubbed together the long bony fingers of his right hand in contemplation. Lucretia, and her mysterious liege, were no simpletons. Not a day went buy when some foul creature would crawl out from the belly of the underworld seeking assistance from the mighty Xan. Most often, he was never bothered with such trivial matters. Wasn't that why he had underlings to take care of the rubbish that showed up on his doorstep? But Lucretia and her as-yet-unknown boss were different. They sent the frozen dead body of a Blue Blaze Irregular with a simple white card pinned to his lapel. Written on the card in embossed black ink were a one line message and a phone number.

_**It would appear that we have a mutual interest and as such seek to form a cooperative partnership.**_

At the time, he wondered what retribution it would bring from Buckaroo Banzai. Allegedly he knew all 6,000 plus Blue Blaze Irregulars by name. How long would it take him to miss just one? Would the entire Team Banzai show up on his doorstep seeking revenge?

That had been years ago and still no one came.

Was Lucretia able to cover the tracks well enough, or did the great and mighty Buckaroo Banzai overlook someone?

A cooperative partnership.

It was a fancy way of saying, "You scratch my back and I scratch yours."

You provide us funding and we provide you with technology, and eventually Team Banzai.

Receiving the occasional dead or alive Blue Blaze Irregular really meant nothing to him. He was growing increasingly uninterested of the gifts of advanced technology. The warrior within him stirred.

Lucretia shifted and sat up straighter in her chair. She raised her eyebrow and asked, "Something is still not satisfactory Hanoi-guay?"

Xan stopped rubbing his fingers together. "I am appreciative of the gifts that your benefactor continues to send me."

"But you grow weary of them," Lucretia responded in a low voice.

Her quick answer did not surprise him.

"You are a warrior. Warriors feed on blood, not trinkets."

Xan shifted in his chair slightly. "And what, of the warrior spirit, do you know about Lucretia?" he asked rather nonchalantly. Then he allowed his black eyes to stare in to hers, daring her to answer.

Casually he reached for the short bladed knife that was on his desk. It was, to him, nothing more than a … _trinket_ from some fallen foe. He ran his thumb perpendicular to the blade, feeling for the characteristic sharpness. It had long disappeared.

"Do you know who the mungudai were?"

Lucretia's brow furled, partly out of anger at herself for not only potentially irritating her ally but also at not knowing where Xan was going. "It translates to 'God belonging'."

Xan simply nodded as he continued to idly play with the dull knife in his hands.

"The mungudai were the light infantry of my people's army. It was highly coveted even though a western would think of them as suicidal. Do you know why that would be Lucretia?"

She didn't respond.

Sensing Lucretia's uncomfortable air brought a slight sneer to his lips. "When an enemy was found, the lightly armed mungudai would recklessly attack the front line. Since they were few in number, the enemy would rise up in force and give chase. The mungudai would turn and then run just far enough ahead so that they couldn't be caught… until they reached their fellow Mongol warriors."

"So they were bait," Lucretia said matter of factly.

With a free hand, Xan shook his finger at her in disagreement. "Not to the Mongol. It was an opportunity to show your bravery. Prove that you were worthy as 'God belonging'." He looked at his reflection in the knife's blade. "It has been a long,… long, time since I fought someone with that spirit."

He put the short knife back down on his desk and leaned back in his chair. For a few minutes neither one spoke.

"You will have Buckaroo Banzai within the month," stated Lucretia. And with that, Xan's screen went black.


End file.
